Real life | 18 June 2015

Aren’t the police getting younger nowadays — and ruder, and scruffier and more intolerant of middle-class women? In other words, why am I always getting pulled over for no apparent reason? If I were a member of any other minority group I would be complaining to my community leaders of terrible bias and of hideously unfair ‘stop and search’ policies.

As it is, whatever minority I do belong to in my Volvo with a Countryside Alliance sticker on the back window and my gundog in a travel cage in the boot, it has absolutely no recourse to complain to anyone. So they help themselves.

The other day, I was driving past Wandsworth Common on my way to Surrey to see the horses when I was pulled over by police manning a huge road block. I had seen this road block before, and had assumed, with some considerable pride, that it was our brave boys in blue doing their bit to apprehend serious criminals, possibly even terror suspects. The sheer scale of it had struck me as really impressive. And as I passed it on this occasion, I thought as always that it was a jolly good job we had these fantastic officers doing their bit to keep the good citizens of our proud nation safe.

When a policeman stood out and waved me down I thought there had been some mistake. I parked up, wound the window down and gave the approaching officer a cheery smile. ‘Can I help you?’ I said. He looked like his mother had knitted him. I’m sorry, but this is just stating facts. He had an unruly ginger beard, creased shirt, baggy uniform.